


A Lucky Shot

by venea_taur



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Gen, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 06:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venea_taur/pseuds/venea_taur
Summary: AU Tag to 1x09: Knight Takes QueenThings go differently in the escape from the Convent and the remaining brothers are left to deal with the consequences.





	A Lucky Shot

The shot was a fluke. That’s what Athos told himself. What he’d told the Queen afterwards. In the darkness of his apartment, he knew better. He had a bottle of wine in hand, but hadn’t yet been able to get himself to take a drink. Instead, he sat at the table, staring out the window. 

Behind him, he heard the door open. There were no guesses as to who was there. 

“What happened to knocking?” He spoke without anger, without emotion. It was instinct.

“Knew you’d be expecting us,” Porthos said. Athos drank in the deep tenor of his voice, allowing the comfortable familiarity to sink into him. It steadied him for less than the blink of an eye then propelled him towards instability, bringing back to the forefront the memories of today. It left an ache within him that would not be resolved, not through time or drink.

Without waiting for further invitation, they came and sat around the table. Back when Athos first took this apartment, he’d not so much as had a chair to sit in. After all, what was the need when he just had the place to sleep off hangovers and chase away nightmares without prying eyes. It was Aramis who’d pestered him into finding a cheap table and a few chairs. He’d added a fourth without prompting when d’Artagnan joined them.

“How’s the Queen,” Athos asked. After arriving safely back in Paris from the convent, Treville had dismissed Athos from the rest of his daily duties once they saw the Queen safely to the palace. He’d left without question or argument, not quite remembering the hurried retreat from the palace to his apartment. It was out of character for him and he knew it as well as the others. 

“Shaken and upset,” d’Artagnan said. Athos wasn’t surprised. Aramis had died before her eyes, head pillowed in her lap. 

A single shot to the marksman’s chest. 

Athos had blindly run out, ruthlessly cutting through the men who dared to kill his brother. Treville, Porthos, and d’Artagnan arrived at the wrong moment, but he didn’t fault them. It had been a lucky shot.

He had ignored his Captain’s command for information to return to his fallen brother. 

He saw the Queen’s white dress, splattered with red. Blood.

He heard Aramis’ labored breaths.

He felt the blood pouring from the wound, soaking into the layers of clothing.

His hands were at a loss. Stopping up the wound would do no good. Still they tried, independent of his own thoughts, trying to prevent the inevitable.

He heard Aramis cough. 

He heard the Mother Superior doing last rites.

He felt a hand on his. They were rough, calloused from years of soldiering, from highly honed skills with a musket.  
Aramis.

He looked up at the man, saw him still clinging to life. Blood speckled his lips, trickled through the side of his mouth. Each breath was a chore for him, ending in choked, strained coughs. He was beyond speaking, but they knew each other too well to need words. Athos understood Aramis’ last wishes, saw that despite his struggle, he was ready.  
In the minutes after Aramis had drawn his last breath, Athos was sure the tunnel was closing in on him. For his brother, for Aramis, he forced himself to see to the Queen. But that was it. He couldn’t face his brothers, Treville. The Queen had lost a lover, but they’d lost a brother. 

“It was a lucky shot,” he said back in the quietness of his apartment, echoing the words he’d said to the Queen. 

“The King has declared that Aramis will be buried with honors for having given his life to save the Queen,” Treville said after a pause.

“He wished to be buried with his brothers who fell at Savoy,” Athos said. Aramis had never vocalized this wish, but they all knew this was true.

“We will have to go after her, Athos,” d’Artagnan said quietly. Milady. She’d killed another brother. Anger overtook the overwhelming sadness. He thought to throw the wine bottle still clutched in his hand, but lacked the energy. 

“Together, Athos,” Porthos warned. Though they often pegged Aramis as the one to act on his own (and he often did), when Athos was angered, he had a tendency to forgo his customary rational mindset, acting first with his broken heart.

“Of course,” he said after a pause. 

“You’ll need a plan,” Treville said.

Athos nodded. They would make a plan to take care of his wife. He would do everything he could to ensure he didn’t lose yet another brother to her. 

He looked up to catch the gazes of Porthos and d’Artagnan. Their sadness was obvious, even as their eyes burned with determination. Whatever the consequences they would avenge their fallen brother.


End file.
